


A Prince Should Know How to Dance

by xXxdumpsterfirexXx



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Mild Language, No Smut, Romance, Shenanigans, Slow Burn, Vegebul, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxdumpsterfirexXx/pseuds/xXxdumpsterfirexXx
Summary: Vegeta is everything a Saiyan prince should be - strong, proud, ruthless, and singularly-focused. He does not, however, fulfill all of the necessary requirements of an Earthling ruler, a role he regrettably must take on for Frieza's amusement. "Lucky" for him, Zarbon's already taken the liberty of finding him a suitable tutor. Bulma Briefs winds up teaching far more than just etiquette.





	1. Frieza's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harpy borthday bejeeta

The circular door opened automatically as Vegeta approached, accompanied by the sound of hydraulics and sliding metal. He slipped through the threshold into Frieza's chamber, falling into a well-practiced kneel. It was lucky that his tail was wrapped so snugly around his waist - otherwise, Frieza would have seen it twitch and swish in contempt. Vegeta was certain the warlord knew his hate for him, though. No one could be as powerful as Frieza and also be so oblivious.

"Lord Frieza, Vegeta reporting as ordered," Vegeta said, his robotic delivery only just veiling his vitriol for Frieza.

Across the chamber, before the wide window overlooking the stars, Frieza's tail swayed back and forth lazily - the only part of him Vegeta could see around his ridiculous floating throne. "Yes, Vegeta, how nice of you to finally arrive," Frieza said, making no move to face him. "I've heard news of your mission on Planet Kluto - or Frieza Planet 391, as I like to call it. Very prompt, I'm pleased."

Vegeta's jaw twitched as he replied, "Thank you, Lord Frieza."

"I must say, it is pleasant to have so many playthings all to myself," Frieza said. Vegeta caught him grinning and swirling his glass of wine in the reflection in the window. "Hundreds of bright, colorful marbles, full of little dolls and puzzles, and I can do with them anything that I please. I've tried to express this joy to dear Dodoria, but I don't think he has quite the taste for conquest that I do."

 _The hell are you trying to talk to Dodoria for?_ Vegeta thought, genuinely bemused.

"Why, Vegeta - silly me. Isn't the anniversary of your birth soon?"

Vegeta's gaze snapped up from the floor, and alarm bells blared in his head. He had only kept cursory tabs on his age since becoming a part of Frieza's army, only so that he could compare his skills in battle to other Saiyans at similar ages. But Frieza wasn't wrong: he was getting older.

"You've been a good little monkey, Vegeta," Frieza said. He paused to sip his wine, allowing Vegeta to simmer at the phrase 'monkey' as he savored his drink. "Don't tell my other subordinates, but I have a special gift for you - or rather, a special assignment: Earth."

"It will be desolate within a week, Lord Frie-"

Vegeta's sentence was cut short with a laugh, which was almost more infuriating than the bootlicking which was expected of him. "So eager to please! This is why I knew you'd be perfect for the job. But no - you will not be destroying Earth. Zarbon has already worked things out with the former leaders of the planet - I like to call it Frieza Planet 389, personally - so there's no need. No, I thought you might appreciate a  _break_ from endless carnage and destruction. It's more of a management position really - keep the locals in order, exact my will, oversee the export of resources to Frieza Planets with more imminent needs..."

 _Bleed the Earthlings dry and break their will to rebel._ Vegeta was acutely aware that Planet Vegeta had received identical treatment shortly before its sudden destruction. Something about perpetuating the culture of his youth onto anyone else made his insides squirm, but Vegeta purged the thought before empathy had a chance to set in. Still, he'd much rather just blow them all up.

"As you command, Lord Frieza."

"Wonderful. You may bring up to three soldiers of your choice along to assist you, you'll leave for first thing tomorrow," Frieza said in a tone that beckoned no argument. "You're excused."

Vegeta mumbled some pleasantry or other and started backing out of the room.

"Oh - and Vegeta?" Frieza piped up suddenly as Vegeta was halfway out of the door. His chair finally spun around the face the prince, his grin and his eyes glinting mischievously. "You behave now."

Vegeta swallowed, perhaps a little louder than he would have liked, and forced the words out that he knew Frieza wanted to hear: "Yes, Lord Frieza."

* * *

It wasn't difficult to tell when Vegeta was in a foul mood, and Nappa of course knew the best thing to do was simply to give the prince room to fume, but somehow - after so many years and countless fights over the matter - Raditz hadn't figured that out.

"Well, Vegeta? What was it? Were you reprimanded? Punished? Was he friendly?" Raditz pestered, looming unnecessarily close to Vegeta as the trio made their way to the barracks. "Did he offer you a drink? Did you arm-wrestle? Was Dodoria there?  _Please_ don't say Dodoria was there, I  _hate_ Dodori-  _ACH!"_

Vegeta punched Raditz firmly in the stomach, a not-so-gentle reminder of Vegeta's personal space. Raditz stumbled back, wheezing, giving Vegeta time to put some distance between them.

Nappa sighed, clapping Raditz on the back - partly to soothe his wounded pride, and partly as an excuse to hit him. Nappa never missed an opportunity to hit Raditz. "Give it a rest, would ya?" Nappa said. In a lower voice, so that the prince didn't overhear, "A one-on-one with Frieza is never pleasant. He'll tell us if he wants us to know. Until then, mind your own damn business - capeesh?"

"Capeesh," mumbled Raditz.

Nappa hit Raditz in the back of the shoulder one more time, ending the conversation and throwing the younger Saiyan off-balance all at once. The rest of the walk was silent and too tense - at least for Raditz, who was itching for information. Vegeta didn't say a word until the doors to their quarters were sealed, and even then, he was prompted by the official order laying at the end of his bed.

"Dammit," Vegeta seethed, the first word he'd spoken since leaving Frieza's chamber.

Vegeta pulled his gloves off and tossed them onto his footlocker with a bit more force than was necessary. He scooped up the order as he sat down on his bed, brow furrowing as he leafed through it - expression souring with each turn of the page.

Nappa shot Raditz a warning look, but it was all for naught. In a moment, Raditz was clambering onto Vegeta's bed to peer over his shoulder. Nappa expected him to be corrected with an elbow to the jaw or some similar punishment, but it seemed Vegeta was too engrossed in the document to even notice.

"What's this, Vegeta?" asked Raditz, one brow raised as he tried to skim the order over Vegeta's shoulder.

Vegeta scoffed, tossing the document onto the next-nearest bed. "Frieza's idea of a joke," he spat. "By the way, we're leaving early tomorrow. Don't sleep in."

"Leaving? For where?" Raditz asked.

"Prince Vegeta, if we have a mission, I'd appreciate knowing what it is," Nappa said. It was one thing for Vegeta to blow off some steam in private, it was another to withhold mission details from the others. One would result in much harsher consequences for everyone involved.

If Vegeta understood the gravity of the situation, he didn't show it. He folded his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. "What is there to know? I'm being sent to some backwater planet where I'm to act as Frieza's lapdog, yipping incessantly at the locals while I bleed the planet dry of its resources - and you two are coming along because I'll occasionally need someone else to take over the yipping and the bleeding of resources while I nap. That's all."

The similarities to the treatment of Planet Vegeta weren't lost on Nappa. However, if Raditz had noticed, he didn't have the sense to act like it, and pressed on with his incessant questions. "How long are we going to be there? Is Frieza truly alright with all three of us being sent at the same time? Do we even need all three of us? We could leave Nappa behind. He's dead weight -" Raditz must have missed Nappa's warning glare, in addition to being oblivious to every lesson he'd ever tried to teach him, "- I think he'd slow us down. Say, where is this planet? What's it called? Will we have to conquer it - that could be fun, anyway - or is it already-"

"For fuck's sake, Raditz -  _shut up,"_ both Vegeta and Nappa snapped in unison.

Nappa dragged his hands down his face while Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose. Finally, Raditz had the good grace to look peeved - if only a little.

"Frieza Planet 389, formerly Earth. Zarbon's already conquered the damn thing, god forbid we have any fun, and no - I have no idea how long we'll be there. That depends entirely on how much it has to offer. Does that satisfy you?" said Vegeta, exasperated.

Raditz was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. "Yes," he said at length. He slid off of Vegeta's bed, and slunk over to his own, where he flopped down to sleep with his boots still on.

Both Nappa and Vegeta watched him for a prolonged minute, waiting for him to say or do something else irritating or infuriating, but for once Raditz seemed completely disinterested in continuing the conversation.  _Did we hurt his feelings somehow?_ Nappa wondered, but one look at Raditz's face was all he needed to know that wasn't it. Raditz looked positively tickled - like a Saiyan whelp with a broken nose, as if everything was going his way.  _I never pegged Raditz for the 'planet management' type._

Nappa couldn't shake the feeling that Raditz had some secret up his sleeve, but he didn't press the matter. He'd spent a significant amount of time with both him and Vegeta, and as different as the two boys were, they did have one thing in common: they'd talk when they were ready to talk. He went to sleep certain Raditz would make his thoughts known before they reached Earth, if not soon after.

They were the last Saiyans left, the three of them - no one could stand to keep a secret for long.

 


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> raditz says 'hello' to the little earthlings - local bulma miffed

It shouldn't have come as a surprise, really. In hindsight, it was exactly Frieza's sense of humor. Out of all the races and species and planets in the universe, Frieza had of course hand-picked the one which most eerily resembled Planet Vegeta and the Saiyans. The Earthlings had no tails, of course, and their hair naturally came in an eye-bleedingly diverse array of shades, not to mention how shrimpy they were by comparison, but those differences paled in comparison to the unsettling familiarity of them all.

"These Earthlings look an awful lot like Saiyans, don't they?" Raditz chimed in over the scouter. Vegeta scowled. Raditz must have been going over the same files on Earth as he was in preparation for their landing. At least this time, Raditz's obvious comment was accompanied by an appropriately-wary tone.

"Yes, Raditz, that's the idea," Vegeta said, making sure to speak slowly in case Raditz got confused half-way through his sentence. Vegeta briefly checked his scouter to make sure it wasn't communicating to Frieza's main base, before adding, "Frieza thinks that kind of crap is hilarious. Don't let the similarities get to you, though. These are Earthlings. The average power level on this planet is 3. They're nothing like us, and showing any fondness for them will be an expression of weakness."

"Yes, Prince Vegeta!" both Nappa and Raditz said over the scouter. They were the last words spoken until the three pods touched down on Earth one after the other, creating three giant craters in the surface.

Vegeta grimaced as his pod impacted with the planet. 'Backwater' indeed - they hadn't even been able to prepare proper landing areas. That, or Frieza had forbidden it in order to make Vegeta's arrival as uncomfortable as possible.

No matter. Vegeta had been through far worse.

The pods opened with the sound of hissing hydraulics, and the three Saiyans floated out of the crafts and towards the Earthling's little welcome committee. Several of the Earth's former rulers - now mere figureheads - were gathered around with their personal assistants, each looking more anxious than the last.

 _And some significantly furrier than others, too,_ Vegeta thought as he picked out not one, not two, but three bipedal canines in suits and other fancy garb.

Nappa was the first to touch down, followed by Raditz, then Vegeta between them.

One of the dog-person-thing's stumbled forward, his tail tucked between his legs. "W-we've been expecting you," he started. "I'm King Furry-"

'King Furry' said quite a bit after that part but Vegeta couldn't hear any of it over how stupid his name was. Perhaps that was the real reason Frieza had chosen Earth: he knew what torture it would for Vegeta to be forbidden from blowing the whole thing to smithereens.

"Okay, can it, furball," snapped Vegeta, silencing King Furry mid-sentence. "Let's get something straight: you're no king.  _I_ am in charge here. After that, you answer to my direct subordinate, Nappa-" Vegeta jerked his head in Nappa's direction, and the hulking Saiyan cracked his knuckles for punctuation, "-and this witless fool over here is Raditz. He has no authority because he's an idiot, but you best do what he says anyway because he could easily slaughter everyone on this planet on a whim." Raditz grinned at the look King Furry gave him.

"U-understood," murmured King Furry.

"Also, change your name. I hate it," Vegeta said. "I trust a year was ample time to prepare proper accommodations for us? I know I said 'trust,' but based of off how underwhelming your species has been so far, I wouldn't believe it until seeing it with my own eyes."

Another one of the puny Earthlings finally piped up. "Hey, why don't you have some humility? That's our King your speaking to! He's won the worldwide electron over-"

"You elect your kings?" Raditz said.

The Earthling clamped his mouth shut. "Uh... yes? We have for centuries."

"So he's a - what - a president? Prime minister?" Raditz continued, sounding more confused with each word.

"No, he's a king. He's just an elected king."

Raditz threw a sidelong glance to Nappa. "I don't think they know what a king is," he said.

"Figures," shrugged Nappa. "You'd think they could compensate for their weakness by maybe being a bit smarter, but..."

"You callin' us stupid?" another Earthling - this one with a far too ornate headdress - shouted out. "You dirty aliens think you can just come over to our planet and call us dumb and get away with it?"

King Furry gasped. "King Kitty, watch your tongue!" he said.

"I won't stand for this! This is humiliating," 'King Kitty' said, throwing his ornate headdress on the ground. "I'm not gonna let these good-for-nothing space cadets tell me what to do with my kingdom on my planet - so there!" King Kitty spat into the dirt.

 _Oh, an upstart,_ Vegeta thought with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, just missing the flash of light and the smell of copper in the air as Raditz let loose a blast of ki. When Vegeta looked up again, King Kitty had fallen to his knees, clutching uselessly at the gaping hole that had appeared in his chest. Blood spurted out through his fingers, the sound of it hitting the dirt and his strained and confused choking the only noise for quite some time. Finally, King Kitty fell over, and didn't say another word.

The other Earthlings looked between King Kitty's body and Raditz's still-raised hand in wordless horror.

"What can I say?" Raditz said at length, and wide grin taking over his face. "I got a whim."

* * *

Bulma flicked through the channels with her glare growing more pronounced by the minute.

"- _after a year of anticipation-"_

"- _our sources are still unclear on what exactly happened at the landing site-"_

"- _and three, and four, and one, and two - come on girls, get those legs up!"_

"Bulma, stay on that one, that's my show," Roshi hollered from the kitchen.

Bulma whirled around in her seat, nearly crushing the TV remote in her fist. "Put a sock in it, old man - this is important!" Bulma shouted in reply. She turned back around and mashed the channel button, the voices of countless news anchors all congealing into one amorphous reporter who couldn't tell Bulma anything she wanted to know.

Roshi settled down on the cushion beside Bulma, his arms full of snacks from the kitchen. Oolong followed with a tray of drinks. "Any news?" Oolong asked.

"Ugh, with Earth being taken over by a bunch of aliens, you'd think it'd be nothing but news," Bulma said. "But all anyone's saying is that they're here now. There's not even any pictures of them!"

"- _we're still waiting on confirmation of- wait, really? Uh - h-hang on there, viewers, we've just received new information on Situation Alien Overlord."_

"Finally," sighed Bulma, throwing the remote onto the floor and leaning towards the TV, lest she miss any important details.

A reporter with oily red hair stood outside the landing sight, his fingers held up to the device in his ear, mouth agape as details were hastily relayed to him. " _I-it would seem that our otherworldly rulers' first act as overlords has been to execute King Kitty of the Kitty Kingdom! King Kitty's body has reportedly been found at the landing sight with a mortal wound in his chest, though our scouts don't report any shrapnel or other weapon on site,"_ the reporter said. He fell silent for another minute while the scouts communicated to him, and he gulped. " _W-w-well folks, stay tuned in to Channel 12 News - th-the only news station that gets you the best of the worst live. I'll - uh - we'll be going into the landing sight with our camera men to get a proper look at the carnage. Our condolences to the citizens of Kitty Kingdom, and now f-for a word from our sponsors - we'll be right back!"_

Bulma roared in frustration and threw the first thing she could grab at the TV - which happened to be Oolong. "This is so stupid! Why isn't anyone doing anything?" she said. She turned on Master Roshi, eyes ablaze. "Why aren't  _you_ doing anything, 'Mr. Master of Martial Arts'? Get those chips out of your face, you slob!"

Roshi scampered back, chewing as fast as he could. "C-cool it, Bulma - I am doing something, see?" he said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! See, I've got my best students on the job right now," he said. "Krillin, Yamcha, and Goku - they'll stop those fiends. It truly is the mark of a great master when his students surpass him, and the mark of a great man to be able to admit it - and I've got both. This thing's in the bag."

"You are a bag," snapped Bulma.

"That doesn't make any sense," muttered Oolong, nursing his head where it had hit the TV stand.

Bulma whirled on him. "You're a bag too!"

Oolong had the sense to get out of Bulma's reach before he got thrown again, but her tirade was by no means over. Bulma got to her feet, pacing furiously in front of the TV to the tune of toilet paper and cat food commercials. "Yeah right you've got the boys on it," she seethed. "They all went to Korin Tower to train for the World Martial Arts Tournament - that was before any of this started. I bet they're all living in the woods, eating bugs and squirrels and stuff, and they have no clue what's happening in the real world. Let's face it, guys: we have to do something ourselves."

"Alright, your highness," Oolong said, safely out of reach in the corner of the room. "What exactly do you propose we do, huh? Go up to the aliens and fight 'em ourselves? Or maybe we should scour every inch of the Earth searching for Goku and the others so that they can die pointlessly for us?"

Bulma snatched the bowl of salsa out of Roshi's hands and chucked it across the room. Oolong shrieked and ducked out of the way - in time to avoid getting the bowl to the face, but managing to get smothered in salsa anyway. "I don't know, but we can't just sit here and do nothing," Bulma said. Suddenly, she clapped her hands together, making Roshi and Oolong jump. "I know! Maybe we can't fight them, but that doesn't mean we can't be diplomatic."

"Diplomatic?" Oolong said. "With alien invaders? Bulma, I know you must get this a lot, but  _have you lost your mind?"_

"No, see, they've got to be on Earth for a reason," Bulma said, pacing again. "If they're here for a reason, they can reason. If they can reason, they can be reasoned with. And I can be very persuasive when I want to be."

"Oh, is that what you call it?" muttered Roshi, earning him a warning glare - which, to his credit, he heeded and fell silent.

"I'll go back to West City and talk to 'em myself," Bulma said with finality, looking satisfied with her plan. "Oolong, get some sleep tonight - we leave at dawn."

Oolong choked on his own spit. "Me? Why do I have to go?"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Because I'm not going to face our alien oppressors all by myself, duh," she said. Bulma folded her arms over her chest, leering at Oolong, daring him to call it a bad idea. "That would be dumb."

Oolong opened his mouth to object, but the words died in his throat and he just hung his head and sighed. "Yeah, it would be. Whatever. Guess it's just my lot in life."

Bulma grinned. "It sure is," she said.

"Forever tied to the hip of an unstable, shrieking harpy with a bad attitude and a death wish..."

" _What was that?"_

 


	3. The Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> raditz gets more than he bargained for.  
> it is a crush he gets a crush god bless 'im

The rooms the Earthlings had prepared for the three of them were far more comfortable and decorative than the barracks, but Vegeta made sure to sneer at them - just the keep the Earthlings on their toes. For once, he wouldn't be forced to share a room with Nappa and Raditz, one of the few pleasantries he regularly missed from his youth (Nappa snored and Raditz had a habit of waking him up and asking if he was having nightmares, and Vegeta couldn't say for sure which was more irritating). Vegeta's eyes roved over his room, scrutinizing every detail: the patterns along the edge of the blankets, the detailing on the ornate vanity, every swirl and spiral of the carpet - he even took note of the individual panes of glass in the tall windows.

"Is it, ah... to your liking?" King Furry asked tentatively.

If Raditz had never done anything else right in his life, his little stunt with King Kitty had at least put the other peons in their place. Knowing that at any moment one of the Saiyans might decide to blast a hole in their chest did wonders to keep them docile.

"It's bright," Vegeta said, deadpan.

King Furry wasn't sure what to make of the statement and Vegeta had the time of his life watching him squirm. "Er, yes - uh - it is an Earth tradition, and a personal preference of mine that our guests - um, that is - our-"

"That's enough of your blathering," Vegeta snapped, cutting King Furry off. "I want a desk in here, and all documents concerning natural and manufactured resources, as well as a topographical map of the planet, a comprehensive breakdown of Earth's demographics, and a glass of water. And get someone to change these sheets - the color is obnoxious."

King Furry squeaked something out along the lines of "yes, sir" and started barking incomprehensibly at his assistant (also a dog-man-creature). Said assistant scurried off to see to Vegeta's orders, casting an uneasy glance at the three Saiyans before disappearing. Nappa gave Vegeta a discreet thumbs-up over King Furry's shoulder.

"W-well now, is there anything else we can do for you?" asked King Furry tentatively.

"Yes," Vegeta said. "Go keep your masses pacified for the time being. Other than that, stay out of the way."

Appropriately, King Furry took that as an excuse to leave and did so. The three Saiyans watched him leave, their eyes never leaving his back as he made his way too-quickly down the hall and around the corner. They waited a moment more to be sure he was out of earshot, and shared a laugh.

"Making yourselves at home, I see," chimed a voice they were all too familiar with.

Vegeta clamped his jaw and sobered instantly, whirling around to the source of the voice: Zarbon, leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. A small smile played on his lips, but it didn't meet his eyes. "The hell are you doing here?" demanded Vegeta, his mouth moving before he could stop it.

Zarbon laughed - an easy, musical laugh that Vegeta found positively grating. He brushed a strand of hair out of his face and started towards the Saiyans, explaining, "Did you really think that Frieza would have set you loose on this planet without any supervision to speak of? You think too highly of yourself, Vegeta. Though a must say, I am impressed by your sudden restraint. Dodoria and I had a little debate the other night about how long it would take for you to blow your top and vaporize everyone on the planet - let's just say I owe him now. Five minutes isn't bad for a monkey."

Vegeta's jaw twitched.  _Zarbon, you have no idea how much restraint I have..._ "What do you want?" Vegeta asked as Zarbon came to a stop.

Zarbon blinked as thought it was a silly question. "Just a little chat, that's all. Nappa? Raditz? Would you give me a moment with your sweet prince?"

The two Saiyans glanced to Vegeta, and he nodded just the slightest, excusing them. Vegeta and Zarbon listened to their footsteps as the two rounded the corner, waiting for them to fade from earshot. Finally, Zarbon broke the silence: "You made quite the entrance today, Vegeta. Though in the future, it's best you don't let Raditz run rampant like you do."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Raditz can do whatever he wants, he's a big boy."

"I'm serious. Put him on a leash," said Zarbon, his impeccable mask of nonchalance cracking just a bit. "Frieza wants everything to go well with 389. You don't want an uprising, trust me. Sure, you might be able to kill any number of Earthlings, but importing labor from the rest of Frieza's forces would be pricey and time-consuming. Earth is to be self-contained, and if that means you three monkeys mining and exporting all of the resources here yourselves, so be it. But do you really want that?"

Vegeta scowled. "Any more benevolent advice? Gosh, I'd love to know more, please keep talking" he said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Only this," Zarbon said. He jabbed Vegeta thrice in the chest to emphasize his next words, each one hitting harder than the last, " _Watch - your - self."_

With a flourish, Zarbon spun on his heel and made his way to - well -  _wherever_ he liked to go when not antagonizing Vegeta.

* * *

Sometimes it paid to be the weak link.

Vegeta had ordered Nappa to cover for him while he slept, so that the Saiyan presence could maintain a kind of omnipotence, but Raditz - as Vegeta had said himself - had no such responsibilities because he was an idiot. There were no duties to be seen to or authorities to answer to, and so escaping his quarters into the night sky had been as easy as slipping through the window. In truth, Raditz wasn't much for four walls and a bed to himself. He much preferred sleeping on moss or leaf piles under the night sky, but he only ever got to when Frieza sent him to appropriately lush planets for missions.

But that wasn't why he was sneaking out now (well, maybe he'd find a nice mossy hill to rest his head on  _later_ but-), on that night.

Once he had flown a suitable distance from West City, Raditz clicked the button on the side of his scouter, searching for high power levels. It was an older model, one he wasn't supposed to have per se, but he was grateful to have kept it. It was so outdated that it couldn't even begin to communicate as far as Frieza's main base, and newer scouters were set to a completely different frequency. It came at the price of also being inaccurate and glitchy, but Raditz figured that paled in comparison to what he could potentially achieve with it.

Which was, of course, finding Kakarot.

The tiny Vegeta in the back of his head laughed at the very notion and insisted that was a fool's errand. Kakarot had been sent away from Planet Vegeta years ago, and even if he wasn't dead, why the hell would Frieza send them directly to him? Raditz must have been remembering the name of the planet wrong.

Then again, it was entirely likely that Frieza had made a big, fat, insurmountable mistake.

Raditz knew it a foolish to even entertain the notion, but he did so unabashedly anyway, even as his scouter turned up only pathetic power levels and he saw more and more how little of the planet was tarnished.

Finally, Raditz got a reading above 10 - far above 10, in fact. A power level of 193 was far to the west. Disappointing, if Kakarot. But if it was, he could always be trained to be better.

His heart full of hope, Raditz sped off towards the power.

* * *

 Yamcha's fist collided with the boulder and it crumbled under his knuckles. He took a step back, resting his hands in his belt as he admired his handiwork. What once was an ages-old immovable stone was now a pile of rubble at his feet. Satisfied with his training, Yamcha stretched, yawned, and wandered back towards his camp to turn in for the night. His regimen was rigorous, far more rigorous than any training with Korin or Roshi, but it was paying off big time.

 _I'll kick Goku's butt next time I see him,_ thought Yamcha, grinning as he pictured the look on Goku's face when he saw how strong he'd become.

Lighthearted thoughts about punching his friends were dashed by a sudden sense of  _something coming._

Yamcha spun around on a dime, looking wildly for the source of the  _something coming._ It was a trick Roshi had taught him and Krillin, a state of heightened awareness that had come in handy more than a few times in the wilderness. It had done wonders to save Yamcha from hoards of dinosaurs and wild panthers and boars and all other sorts of feisty wildlife. However, while Yamcha could tell where a panther was prowling without much effort, the  _something coming_ felt as though it was coming from - well - everywhere. And it was powerful, too. More powerful than anything Yamcha had ever faced...

"Hey, you - Earthling," came an unfamiliar voice - from above.

Yamcha started, not expecting the  _something coming_ to have arrived from the air, but when he looked up, there it - he? - was. Perched on a tree branch high up above, leaning on his shoulder against the main body of the tree with his hands on his hips, was a young man with wild hair and the strangest armor Yamcha had ever seen. Yamcha gulped. This man was definitely the source of the power he'd felt. How could one person be so strong? He made a mental note to intensify his training.

"Earthling, can you hear me? Are you deaf or just rude?" he asked again.

Instead of waiting for an answer, the man started messing with the device on his head. Yamcha could see him frown even from the ground.

"According to my readings, you're one of the strongest people on this planet right now," he said at length. Suddenly, he dropped down from the tree, landing with his legs bent within a pace of Yamcha.

Yamcha yelped and stumbled back half a step, taken by surprise. The stranger rose to his full height, towering over Yamcha by head and shoulders and seemingly making a show of looking down at him.

"What do you want, you big creep?" Yamcha demanded when he finally found his words. He steadied his stance and rose his arms in preparation for battle, but the stranger just rolled his eyes.

"Believe me, Earthling, a fight between the two of us would be pointless. And besides, I don't even care about you," he said. "I'm only talking to you because you're the least puny of the puny Earthlings I've seen thus far, and that means you're far more likely to know who I'm looking for."

Yamcha blinked, trying to make sense of everything the stranger had said. "You're looking for someone?" Yamcha briefly considered lowering his guard and helping him, but Bulma's voice echoed around his skull, unbidden.  _Think, Yamcha - what's the worst case scenario? If it ends in murder you probably shouldn't risk it!_ The context for that nugget of wisdom had been the aftermath of Yamcha's first unattended trip to the grocery store, but he thought it applied well enough here. "How do I know you're not just going to hurt whoever you're looking for?"

The stranger quirked an eyebrow at Yamcha. "That's not your business. Tell me where Kakarot is," he snapped.

"Who?"

"Kakarot," repeated the stranger. "Don't play dumb - there's no way he wouldn't have found you and challenged you at some point, if he's on this planet. Now, where has he gone?"

"I swear I have no clue who that is," Yamcha said again. "I'd remember if I met someone with a dumb name like 'Kakarot'."

The stranger fixed Yamcha with a glare that made his spine shudder, leaning towards him to scrutinize his face for any signs of deception. Yamcha could only lean back to avoid brushing their foreheads together, struggling to maintain eye contact at the same time. There was something unsettlingly familiar about those eyes - Yamcha wished he could remember where he'd seen them.

After a few moments of eye contact that felt like an hour, the stranger scowled, turned on his heel, and stomped a few paces before sitting down in the dirt with his arms crossed, fuming. "This was stupid," he declared to no one in particular. "I twiddle my thumbs in a damn pod for almost a year thinking that this god-forsaken planet would be where I'd find Kakarot, and then I get here and it  _isn't._ I shouldn't have wasted my time!"

If he was trying to sound angry, he was failing. Yamcha wasn't the best at reading peoples' moods, but even he recognized the hoarseness and uneven tone of someone trying not to cry. The realization suddenly made him feel incredibly awkward, like he wasn't supposed to be there but couldn't get away nonetheless. The stranger stifled a sob and Yamcha decided that he had to diffuse the situation, and quick. Yamcha never knew what to do once people started crying.

"Um, hey-" started Yamcha, daring to inch closer to the stranger.

He was met with a glare that would have been paralyzing, had it not been for the stranger's glassy, bloodshot eyes.

Yamcha gulped and pressed forward. "This - this Kakarot guy - can I ask why you want to find him?"

The stranger hesitated for a moment, and Yamcha almost thought he was going to take off - but then he answered. "I knew him a long time ago. I wanted to find him so he could join me and my brethren, and so I could whip him into shape. But it doesn't look like he's here. The Kakarot  _I_ knew would have gone out of his way to find stronger and stronger opponents, but if he hasn't challenged you..."

 _Looking for an old friend, huh?_ "They always say it's a small world, but I don't think that's really true," Yamcha said tentatively. "I mean, it doesn't matter how strong I get - every time I enter the World Martial Arts Tournament, there's hundreds of new fighters even weirder and stronger than I've ever met. That doesn't even include the guys I meet between tournaments, like - well, there's this kid I used to train with named Krillin, and he can smash boulders with his bare hands and jump fifty feet in the air, not to mention how fast he is. And our friend Goku's even stronger than he is!"

The stranger was starting to come around, enticed by Yamcha's stories of strong fighters. Already his eyes had cleared up and his lips had stopped quivering, now open just a fraction as he was too captivated to keep them closed.

"There's this guy, Tenshinhan, who's easily as strong as I am, and he can  _fly,_ _"_ Yamcha went on. "His buddy Chiaotzu isn't much of a fighter, but he's got magic powers or ESP or something - and how could I forget Master Roshi! And those are just the guys I'm friends with."

"So what you're saying is that there is a wealth of strong warriors on this planet," the stranger said, finally standing up again.

"Yeah, totally!" said Yamcha. "Just because he hasn't fought me personally doesn't mean he isn't here. I bet he's out there right now, getting a good night's sleep so he can wake up bright and early tomorrow to do some stretches and get to training. You'll find him!"

To Yamcha's satisfaction and delight, the stranger's face broke out into a wide smile. "You're right, Earthling," he said. "Kakarot is on this planet, I know it in my bones."

"That's the spirit," Yamcha said. "With an attitude like that, there's no way you're gonna miss him."

"Yes, you're very right, Earthling," said the stranger. A look dawned on his face, and if Yamcha didn't know better, he'd say he was embarrassed. "Er, say - what do you call yourself? 'Earthling' is a mouthful and I hate saying it."

Yamcha laughed. He had to agree - 'Earthling' was kind of a weird thing to call someone. "The name's Yamcha - pleased to meet ya. What's your name?" he said.

"Raditz," answered the stranger. "Yamcha, is it? I order you to go to sleep right away. We're leaving early tomorrow."

Yamcha was just in the process of laughing and bidding Raditz goodbye when he realized his new friend was completely serious. "Uh - leaving?" he said. "Leaving where? For what?"

Raditz looked as though he'd just been asked the stupidest series of questions imaginable. "I have no patience for navigating this planet myself. You're going to help me to find these strong fighters you spoke of, and we're going to use them to track down Kakarot. Seeing as how this will undoubtedly be exhausting and time-consuming, I'd advise you get some rest," Raditz explained, speaking just a bit slower than necessary. "Anyway, I'll be over there. Goodnight!"

Before Yamcha could process what was going on, Raditz hunkered down on a mossy bit of the forest floor, kicking his legs up on a rock. "H-hey," Yamcha started, but by the time he'd jogged over to Raditz, he was fast asleep and snoring.

For a brief moment, Yamcha debated waking him up and telling him off, but then a Thought occurred to him.

_Wait a minute - this is an adventure. Adventures are always great training. And if I get stronger, via the great training that is sure to come with this adventure, I'll be able to show everyone up at the next tournament._

Suddenly abuzz with excitement for the day ahead, Yamcha tip-toed over to his modest little camp and settled down for the night.  _Besides, this Raditz guy seems pretty... interesting. Yeah, that's the word for it. Interesting._

* * *

Frankly, Raditz wasn't sure what had possessed him to bring the Earthling - Yamcha - along on his quest to find Kakarot. Sure, his scouter was inaccurate and clunky, but it wasn't useless, and it had at least been able to lead him to Yamcha. Was having an Earthling around to make general guesses as to where some nebulously-powerful fighters might be really an improvement over an outdated scouter? Raditz just couldn't say.

One thing he did know was that this Earthling was significant somehow. He wasn't particularly strong, that was for sure, and he didn't happen to know Kakarot, but Raditz always trusted his gut. And at the time, his gut said that it wanted Yamcha to stick around a while longer. It could get lonely, traversing the Earth in solitude, looking for an estranged brother who may or may not even be alive. He could use the company.

 _Besides,_ he thought, right before drifting off to sleep under the night sky,  _this Yamcha is rather interesting._

 


	4. A Deal is Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little validation goes a long way in manipulating underappreciated genius :/

"This was a bad idea," muttered Oolong for the thousandth time as West City appeared over the horizon.

Bulma jammed her elbow in his direction half-heartedly, having gone deaf to his objections hours ago. "It'll only take a bit of time. I'm very persuasive," she said automatically. Oolong opened his mouth to say something in retort, but Bulma pushed the gas pedal to the floor of the car, sending it hurtling at top speed towards her hometown of West City - the epicenter of the alien menace on Earth. She knew from the news that the aliens were holed up in King Furry's castle - thank god they'd left the city intact - but she had no idea if Earthlings were even allowed anywhere near it. Bulma hoped that Oolong's repetitious warnings didn't come true.

 _Snap out of it, girl,_ Bulma told herself firmly.  _You're not some sniveling peasant - you're Bulma Briefs, the smartest, prettiest, most important young woman around. They can't refuse an audience with someone like me._

While she drove like a bat out of hell on the way to West City, Bulma exercised far more control and respect for the rules of the road once they crossed into the municipality, even going so far as to signal to other traffic. Bulma regarded the city skeptically, leering at pedestrians and squinting at shopkeepers, looking for some sign that their minds had been wiped out by alien technology. But despite a slightly off-putting lack of eye contact, the inhabitants of West City looked as busy and brusque and human as they ever had.

"Doesn't look like the aliens are using our bodies as meatsuits to puppeteer like dolls," Bulma observed.

"Wow, what glowing praise. Sign me up for alien dictatorship right now," Oolong said.

Bulma glared at him for just a moment before returning her eyes to the road. "This is nothing to sniff at, Oolong," Bulma said. "I mean, if all an alien dictatorship amounts to is exporting some of Earth's resources out to the rest of the galaxy, it might not even be that bad. I bet if these guys are reasonable, we'll even get commerce and stuff from other planets - we could be looking at a period of significant growth and change the likes of which Earth hasn't seen since-"

Oolong cut her off with a snort. "I think they're biding their time before they grind us all up for space hamburger."

"I think you need to have more faith in the coolest, most competent woman you've ever met," Bulma snapped.

Oolong snickered, trying to mask the noise by burying his mouth in his hands. In spite of his better judgement, if Oolong had anything of the sort, he added, "Yeah, 'most competent woman' ain't exactly reassuring, toots."

"Urgh! You witless, good-for-nothing-" Bulma started to growl. She clamped her jaw shut and slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Oolong careening through the windshield. Before he could even ask her what the big idea was, Bulma had mashed a button over the radio that had the passenger-side door swinging open, and with one firm kick, Oolong was sent flying out of the car.

Oolong landed gracelessly on the sidewalk. "Ow, jeez, cool it," he whined as he picked himself up. "What's the deal, anyway? It's called a 'joke' - look it up..."

Oolong moved to climb back into the car, but Bulma pulled the door shut and locked it quickly. The window rolled down a crack, and Bulma's voice boomed out, loud and unashamed: "You know where my parents live - get a cab and go cower behind the sofa, if you aren't gonna help!"

"Get a cab? Bulma, my wallet's still in the-" started Oolong.

"Then walk!" The window closed and Bulma was speeding through West City once more, leaving Oolong in the dust.

* * *

Earth wasn't particularly rich in minerals or crops that were of interest to Frieza - it had been picked specifically to mess with Vegeta's head, and little else - but Zarbon couldn't help it if he was growing fond of it anyway. His job of shadowing Vegeta was almost like a vacation. If he wanted wine, the Earthlings brought him wine. If he wanted his hair done, they scrambled to find the best hairdresser in the business. If he wanted his boot licked, there was a terrified Earthling more than eager to accommodate him.

And on the few moments a day he actually had to work, it was thrilling. Playing with Vegeta's head had always been a favorite passtime of his, and doing so now in the name of Frieza was just an added bonus.

Zarbon was just enjoying a sunny morning in the courtyard of the West City castle - the servant who'd attended him had bored him with a story of it all being new landscaping since the area was ravaged by some 'King Piccolo' or whatever - with a glass of bubbly juice and a magazine of Earth fashion when perhaps one of the most delightful things he'd ever encountered in his career popped in.

It - she, Zarbon would later learn. Goodness, it was hard to tell Earthlings apart - was announced by a quivering servant. "S-someone is here to see you, Lord Zarbon," stammered the Earthling.

Zarbon didn't so much as quirk a brow at him. He took a prolonged sip of his juice, flipped through his magazine, and savored the tension in the air.

"Uh - uh, it's Ms. Bulma Briefs, sir. She's requesting an audience with the aliens - er, I mean - the _new leadership,_ sir."

Zarbon still didn't answer.

"The Briefs are - well, my lord - they're one of the most influential families in the world, you see, Dr. Briefs is the founder of the Capsule Corporation, and-"

"WOULD YOU GET OUT OF MY WAY?"

That finally got Zarbon's attention - no one had raised their voice around him since the initial 'negotiations' over a year ago. He craned his neck around just in time to see the servant pushed aside by a lanky young woman in a polo and khaki skirt (Zarbon had learned quite a bit about the lingo surrounding Earth fashion), her blue hair barely contained by her scrunchie (Zarbon had to cringe), giving her a somewhat wild appearance. She locked eyes with Zarbon for a split second, and before he could turn around and pretend he hadn't noticed her, she was stomping over towards him.

"There you are," the Earthling, Bulma, said as she walked around to face Zarbon.

Zarbon peered at her from over his magazine, unsure of what to make of her. She stood over him with her hands on her hips, her face cast in shadow from the morning sun being to her back. No Earthling had ever been so crass with him - even the ones who initially resisted Frieza's rule had some wishy-washy speech about free will or honor, and the rest just cowered. But Bulma Briefs just looked fed up with, well,  _something._

"I've been trying to get your mouth-breather of an assistant to take me to you for over fifteen minutes, did you know that?" she said. "Ugh, I can't stand people who can't do their jobs. I'm Bulma, by the way. Bulma Briefs, doctorate pending. What the heck are you called, anyway? You haven't exactly communicated very clearly with the public." Bulma Briefs, doctorate pending, said this all very fast and businesslike. By now Zarbon was reeling, trying to make sense of it all. Who was this Earthling (besides the obvious answer)? What did she want? What made her think she could walk right up to Zarbon and mouth off to him?

Zarbon chuckled darkly, and slid off of his reclining chair with effortless grace. "You don't know who you're talking to, do you?" he asked.

Even as Zarbon towered over her, Bulma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, duh, that's why I asked."

 _Oh, yeah - she did ask, didn't she?_ Zarbon thought, momentarily flustered. He quickly righted himself, though, his confident demeanor never cracking for a moment. "You are in the presence of Zarbon, conquerer of Earth and general of Frieza's magnificent army," he said. "I'd suggest you have some respect."

To his frustration, Bulma Briefs, doctorate pending, didn't look cowed in the least. "Great, just the guy I wanted to talk to," she said, her tone far too conversational. "Look, you seem like a reasonable enough guy - and your hair looks great, if I do say so myself - so I'll level with you: me, and the people of Earth? We have no idea what's going on here."

"Indeed, you don't," Zarbon marveled.

Bulma quirked an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, that's what I said," Bulma said slowly.

 _Infuriating. This Earthling is just infuriating,_ Zarbon thought, his facade of calm barely contained.

"Anyway, here's the deal - I think I can speak for everyone on Earth when I say that I just want some peace of mind about all this alien conquest nonsense," Bulma said. "And for that, we've got a couple of questions that need answered: who are you people? What are you plans with Earth? Are you gonna kill, torture, or enslave us all? Basic stuff, y'know? So level with me, Z, what's happening here?"

Zarbon held his chin in his hand, taking his time contemplating how to handle this.

_This is by far the strangest, most frustrating and disrespectful Earthling I've dealt with since arriving on this backwater planet. She's oblivious, bullheaded, can't read a room to save her life, and thinks she's entitled to my time and answers._

_I'll let Vegeta deal with her._

Zarbon allowed his face to split into a grin as the notion got caught in his head and started developing. No, he wouldn't let Vegeta deal with her - he'd force Vegeta to tolerate her. Zarbon could call him 'monkey' and push him around and taunt him all day, but he could never hope to be as annoying as this Earthling. And if Vegeta felt he was forbidden, or strongly discouraged, from getting rid of her...

 _Time to exercise my executive power over the little prince,_ thought Zarbon.

"Bulma Briefs, was it?" Zarbon said, much more amicably than before. "Why don't we have a little chat? I think we could help one another, you and I."

Bulma looked tickled by the idea, and allowed Zarbon to lead her through the gardens of the West City castle by the small of her back. "To answer a few initial concerns, our plans for Earth are purely resource-driven - we have little interest in Earthlings as one of those resources, so your people are in no danger from us," Zarbon started. "There's a wealth of silicon on this planet, which is our primary interest. Our great leader, Lord Frieza, just happens to enjoy collecting planets as well - hence the conquering. But he takes very good care of his property."  _Or at least the property he considers valuable._

"That's good to hear. See, I knew you guys were reasonable. None of my friends believed me," Bulma said.

"And that's just the thing," Zarbon sighed, putting on a show of being distraught now that had Bulma's full attention. "You see, we've tried to communicate with you Earthlings as politely as we could, but the customs of Earth are just so foreign to us. I'm afraid it looks as though we may never put the people of Earth at ease with our current understanding of your norms and culture."

"Hey, that's no problem. That sort of thing just takes learning," insisted Bulma, rubbing Zarbon's arm in a way he supposed was meant to be comforting. "A lot of the time, even people on Earth get confused by each others' cultures, and we all live on the same planet. There's tons of experts and coaches and stuff for that sort of thing-"

Zarbon decided that it was time to lock her in. He turned on his heel and gripped Bulma by the shoulders, holding her so that she was forced to look into his eyes - which he made big and glassy to finish the effect. "Oh, would you, Bulma Briefs?" he asked with a too-excited note in his voice.

"What - me? Teach you guys how to human?" she stammered. Bulma shrugged out of Zarbon's grip, laughing uneasily and smoothing her clothes. "I dunno. Like I said, there are experts for that sort of thing..."

"But there's something  _special_ about you," purred Zarbon.

Something about his words or his tone caught Bulma's interest, and her hands froze over her polo midway through smoothing it out. "Y-you think so?" she asked, obviously trying to come off as nonchalant and just falling short. She cleared her throat. "Well, it figures it would take the conquest of Earth by intergalactic forces for someone to finally admit it. I suppose I could be persuaded..."

 _As if you're in any position to negotiate,_ thought Zarbon.  _Control your impulses, Zarbon... Just think of the look on Vegeta's face when I ditch her on him..._

"Oh, please, Bulma Briefs. Please consider it. We'd be honored to have your guidance, I can tell," he said, reaching out and rubbing Bulma's arm similarly to how she'd touched him just a short time ago.

Her face took on a pinkish hue and she smiled sheepishly, before thrusting her chest out and putting her hands on her hips. "What's to consider? I'd be more than happy to represent Earth and teach you guys about life on this big blue baby," she said.

  _Got her._ "Excellent, I expect you to be in this very courtyard first thing tomorrow to meet your student," Zarbon said in a tone that beckoned no argument.

The wording of his sentence didn't escape Bulma's notice. She frowned. "Meet my student? Won't I be-?"

"What, teaching me? Oh no, Bulma Briefs - I've been on and off of Earth for over a year now, I have a fair enough grasp of how things go here," he said with a wave of his hand. "Besides, I'm not even responsible for how our organization interacts with you Earthlings. That would fall on our dear, sweet Vegeta - see,  _he's_ the one in charge of Earth. I'm just in charge of him, that's why I'm here."

Bulma blinked, processing all that Zarbon was telling her. "So - there's more of you here?" she asked.

"Not many, not many. Just myself, Vegeta, and two of his own lackeys. I'm sure you'll get a chance to be very well acquainted with them all," he said. With faux-concern, he added, "This doesn't change your decision to help us, does it? I fear Vegeta is in desperate need of some tutoring insofar as manners are concerned, and if that's an issue, then..."

"Not at all," Bulma said, her eyes burning with fresh resolve. "I'll be here first thing in the morning, you bet."

Zarbon smiled. "I'm so grateful to hear that, dear," he said with a purr.

Bulma's cheeks went pink again, and she twirled a loose strand of her hair. "Yeah, totally, no problem," she said. She waved her hand at Zarbon (a gesture he'd learned meant 'hello' or 'goodbye' depending on context) and started back the way she'd come. "I got plenty to prepare for tomorrow then - see ya, Z!"

"Yes, see you, Bulma Briefs," Zarbon said, returning the hand-waving gesture as Bulma jogged back towards the castle. "I can't  _wait_ for tomorrow."

* * *

Vegeta hated planet management.

The paperwork, the peons,  _being at a desk,_ not to mention the "PEON!" boomed Vegeta, and a quivering Earthling was standing awkwardly in the doorway of his lodging/office in a heartbeat. "Don't drag your feet next time. And bring me a damn globe! I have no idea what half of these places are, let alone..."

But the peon had already disappeared, and Vegeta was left muttering to himself. Gritting his teeth, he crumbled whatever document he'd been trying to decipher into a tiny ball, and turned it to ash in his fist. "Useless fucking planet..." The globe he'd ordered was set firmly down on his desk. " _Took_ you long enou- the hell are you doing in here?"

Zarbon leaned against Vegeta's desk with an insufferable smile playing on his lips, his free hand lazily spinning the globe. "Useless, you say? Why, Vegeta, why would Frieza waste his time with a useless planet?" Zarbon asked. "If it was useless, it would have been blown up already. But Frieza considers it  _incredibly_  useful, so I'd advise you to have some respect."

 _Incredibly useful for ruining my life,_ Vegeta snarked mentally, but he kept his cool outwardly. "You have something to chide me for besides semantics, Zarbon?" asked Vegeta, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. "I'm kind of busy trying to figure out how to deal with King - ugh -  _King Kitty's_ pathetic kingdom. They don't have a leader since Raditz killed their dumbass king, and apparently his six-year-old son isn't a good enough contender for the  _Kitty Throne._ They want to go through a whole democratic process for the whole thing,  _which is not how kings work,_ but-"

"Actually, I do have something to tell you," Zarbon cut him off.

"Well? Spit it out. Kitty Kingdom isn't going to rename itself," snapped Vegeta.

"Frieza wants this planet alive and under his rule for the foreseeable future, so an amicable relationship must be maintained with its people," Zarbon said, his tone suddenly businesslike. "I am... concerned that you'll struggle with that. So in order to assist you, I've hired someone to tutor you on Earth culture and customs. Well, I suppose 'tutor' doesn't quite cover their duties - think of them as your personal assistant and babysitter."

Vegeta prickled and could only hope Zarbon didn't notice. "I don't need an assistant - or a babysitter," Vegeta said.

Zarbon snorted audibly, a graceless and grotesque sound that Vegeta hadn't even realized he was capable of. "Don't make me laugh, Vegeta," was all Zarbon said. "Anyway, your lessons will begin first thing in the morning, so don't disappear. Why don't you let Nappa take over the your usual duties, hm?"

Vegeta opened his mouth to insist that no such thing was necessary, but the pile of paperwork on his desk had a presence of its own that threatened to drown him at every moment. Plus, the Kitty Kingdom situation was giving him a headache. He didn't audibly consent to Zarbon's arrangement, but he did grunt.

That was good enough for Zarbon, and the teal alien strutted for the door. "Good to hear, Vegeta, and don't be late tomorrow. Ciao!" Zarbon said. He paused by the door, and added, "That's something the Earthlings say, 'ciao'. It's adorable, isn't it? You try."

"Get out of my room, Zarbon," Vegeta said, sounding more tired than anything.

Zarbon chuckled. "Ciao," he said again, before finally disappearing from view.

 

 

 


	5. Master Roshi Is Violently Knocked Against His Own House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yamcha and raditz harass the elderly

Raditz awoke shortly before dawn, an opportunity he took to fly up to the treetops and admire the sunrise on Earth. It was a myriad of reds, oranges, and golds, which faded into a bright blue as the sun rose. It was a breathtaking sight, Raditz had to admit. But before long, he was done looking at it, and rearing to find Kakarot and throttle him for not making a greater impact on this world.

He clicked the button on his outdated scouter, which displayed the time (albeit off by several minutes, but Raditz accounted for that in his head) and quickly locked onto his new Earthling companion's energy. Already grinning as he thought of all the warriors they were going to interrogate (maybe even fight!) that day, Raditz sped off in the direction of Yamcha's energy.

The Earthling was found, still asleep, under a ramshackle tent and worn blanket - snoring so loud that Raditz almost thought some kind of wild animal was skulking about. He leaned against a tree with his arms folded, waiting for Yamcha to awake. When he didn't do so immediately, Raditz lost his patience and closed the distance between them, before rousing Yamcha with a swift kick to the ribs.

"Wake up!" Raditz snapped, but he needn't have bothered.

"What the- what was that for?" gasped Yamcha, clutching his ribs and scuttling away from Raditz as fast as he could.

Raditz ignored the question. "We need to get going if we want to find Kakarot today," Raditz said plainly. "Put your boots on and let's go."

Yamcha still looked disoriented. "Go? Now? First thing in the morning? And - and who even says we're gonna find your friend toda-  _hey!"_

Whatever Yamcha's next point was, he never got to make it. Raditz grabbed him roughly by the back of the shirt and slung him over his shoulder, wasting no time as he stalked over to an area with more room to take off. "Just tell me who we're going to see first and I'll try to track them with my scouter," Raditz said.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Yamcha asked.

He started to struggle in Raditz's grip, but abandoned that mission the moment Raditz shot up into the sky. His cry woke every rodent and bird in a ten-mile radius, and he went from trying to slip out of Raditz's hold to gripping to him for dear life. "What the hell?" gasped Yamcha, his knuckles white as he held onto Raditz by his hair.

"Well?" prompted Raditz, using his free hand to expand his scouter's search radius.

"W-what?" stammered Yamcha.

"Warriors. Fighters. People who Kakarot has surely challenged at some point," said Raditz. "Which one are we looking for first?"

Yamcha's mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he struggled to think. "Um, well - west of here, there's a little island where my master lives. He might know something," Yamcha said. "Oh, god, the ground is far away..."

"Yes, Earthling, the ground gets further away the more you fly away from it," Raditz drawled. Deaf to Yamcha's whimpering, Raditz turned to the west and flew at a steady pace - for Yamcha, it was like he was speeding down winding streets on an out-of-control unicycle, but Raditz thought he was being very careful - while he tried to get a reading on his scouter. After a while, he frowned. "Say, how strong is this master of yours?"

Being as terrified as he was, Yamcha was grateful for the distraction. "Master Roshi? He's like the greatest martial artists on the planet," Yamcha said. He laughed nervously. "O-or at least, he was: me and Krillin and Goku - those are his other students - I think we're all stronger than he is-"

"So he's not the greatest martial artist on the planet?" Raditz asked, an eyebrow quirked.

"No, I was gonna say we're stronger than he is, but he's still the best fighter because he's so much smarter and more experienced and all that," said Yamcha. "You know, there's more to being a good fighter than brute strength."

Raditz rolled his eyes, and pressed the button on his scouter again. "Are you sure he's strong at all, though? I'm not picking up any notable power levels in this direction. Is his island just very far away?" he asked.

Yamcha dared loosen his grip on Raditz enough to turn his head and get a proper look at the device over Raditz's eye. "That thing can detect energy?" he marveled. "That's wild - I'd bet Bulma'd love to have a look at it-"

"Is Bulma a fighter?" asked Raditz.

Yamcha laughed. "Uh, no, she's-"

"Then she's no concern of mine. Why can I not get a reading on your Master Roshi?" Raditz asked again. "If he's truly so weak, I don't see why we should be wasting our time on him..."

Unexpectedly, Yamcha's fist met with Raditz's kidney, making the Saiyan spasm and sending them both careening towards the ground. Yamcha must have thought it was an appropriate response at the time, but he screamed openly as they fell, limbs wrapped around Raditz in a knot. Luckily, Raditz righted himself before they met with the ground, and he floated - at a much slower speed, and at a much lower elevation - back on track.

"What was that for?" Raditz whined.

Yamcha was wordless for a few moments, white-faced and twitching from the fall. At length, he found his ability to speak again: "That was for badmouthing Master Roshi - a-and Bulma too, by the way," Yamcha said. "I don't know how your thing works, but trust me when I say that Master Roshi is not weak by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe your thing's busted."

Raditz snarled. "It is not busted! All of the readings I'm getting are measly at best, which I've come to expect of Earth, so excuse me for being a little skeptical," he snarked.

"Maybe it's just made stupid in the first place," Yamcha retorted. "Master Roshi can mask his true power - he taught me and the others how to do it, too. I'll bet your thingy there just can't detect power that's hidden."

Raditz would have retorted, but he had nothing to day. It was true - the scouters couldn't detect energy that wasn't being used. It wasn't usually an issue, but if the people on Earth could hide their powers, then finding Kakarot could be much more time-consuming than Raditz planned for... "Are we going in the right direction?" Raditz asked.

"Uh, yeah, looks like it. I mean, you could try going a bit more south-west rather than true west, but that's not going to be a problem until we get to ocea- _AHH!"_

Raditz blasted off in the direction Yamcha had given him, so fast that the Earthling's scream was lost in the wind behind them.

* * *

Roshi felt it coming from miles away.

He made a show of settling down in a lawn chair with a magazine and a cold drink, and told Turtle to stay inside and mind his own business while he took care of whatever was coming. Accurate to his prediction,  _he_ soon showed up - tall, broad, with a cruel look to his features, and simply oozing power.

One thing Roshi hadn't anticipated was Yamcha tagging along. The stranger's power had been so potent, he hadn't even noticed Yamcha literally clinging to him.

His student fell off of the stranger's body and landed on the sand with a  _thud._ "Oh, thank god, we're here," Yamcha wheezed. He rose one exhausted arm in greeting, not moving from his spot in the sand. "Hey, Master Roshi."

"Yamcha," Roshi nodded. "Who's your friend?"

Yamcha's 'friend' stalked over to Roshi and lifted him out of the lawn chair by the front of his shirt. "You're Master Roshi?" he said, his eyes - pitch-black and somewhat familiar - glinting as he looked Roshi over. "Yamcha calls you the greatest martial artist on the planet. Is this true?"

Briefly, Roshi considered his options. He could agree that he was the greatest on Earth, which would surely inspire this stranger to challenge him, or he could balk off and act humble and the stranger would let him sit down. "Oh, no, by no means," laughed Roshi. "I'm just an old man with a little experience, is all. I won't say I'm incompetent, but there's always room to improve, y'know?" He finished off with his signature laugh, known throughout the land to endear him to men and women alike.

The stranger frowned, but to Roshi's dismay, made no move to set him down. He craned his neck around to speak to Yamcha (still in the sand). "This is the Master Roshi you spoke of, the strong one?"

"Yep."

"He seems loud and delicate to me," he said.

"Don't let appearances fool you," Yamcha sighed, finally picking himself up. He came over to the two of them and pulled the stranger's arm down, forcing him to lower Roshi. "Now set him down, and let's be civil for a minute here..."

Roshi half-expected the stranger not to comply, but he did, and dropped Roshi unceremoniously back into the lawn chair. "Gee, thanks," Roshi sniffed.

"Master Roshi, this is Raditz, a new friend of mine," Yamcha said.

The stranger, Raditz, made a curious face at that. Something between shock, elation, and horror, if it was possible. Suddenly, he looked a lot less threatening - and even more familiar.

"Raditz, this is Master Roshi. Now shake hands and say hello," Yamcha went on.

Raditz frowned, then rose his hands, waving them a little bit in a gesture that would have been pretty jazzy had it not been so uncertain.

Roshi frowned, Raditz's familiarity growing more apparent with each passing moment.

"Yamcha, if you want me to take him in as a student, I should let you know that it ain't gonna happen," Roshi said. "Besides, this fella here is too stubborn to learn anything from me, I can tell ya that just by looking at him."

"That's right, old man, I'm not here to learn a damn thing!" Raditz proclaimed.

Yamcha inserted himself between the two of them. "That's fine, Master. Raditz is actually looking for someone, and we were wondering if you might know of him," Yamcha explained. "Someone named 'Kakarot', an old friend of his. He might have challenged you at some point or something. Ring any bells?"

"Hmm." Roshi slid off of the lawn chair and paced around the island leisurely, making a show of it even though he knew for a fact that he'd never heard the name 'Kakarot' before. In fact, he was still trying to figure out where he'd seen Raditz, or someone like him. A tournament, maybe? Perhaps he had a relative Roshi knew from back in the days of his youth? When Roshi looked back at Yamcha and Raditz from the corner of his eye, both were watching him with bated breath. Roshi grinned, laughing a bit as he admitted, "Nope! I've never heard that name in my life!"

The sudden shift from 'contemplative master' to 'old buffoon' was enough to make the two of them almost drop to the ground. "Aw, that stinks," Yamcha said. "I thought for sure you'd be able to help us..."

"Now, I didn't say I wouldn't be able to help you," Roshi said. "I just said that I haven't heard the name 'Kakarot'. But before we get ahead of ourselves, I think I need to have a word with your new friend, there."

Raditz pointed to himself, as if to make sure he really was the 'new friend' Roshi was referring to, before following the old master around the island. Once Yamcha had disappeared behind the corner of the house, Roshi spoke again: "To say I'm skeptical of you would be an understatement, sonny. Who is this Kakarot you're looking for? How do you know him? What's your business with him? Is he an honorable man, or a scoundrel? I'm not just going to blindly help you, you know."

"I don't owe you any information at all," snapped Raditz.

"Well, sounds like your out of luck then," Roshi said. "Shame, hundreds of years of experience, countless contacts and acquaintances, and a literal psychic sister, and you don't have access to any of it. Welp, have fun scouring the globe on foot for someone who might not even be alive-"

Suddenly, Roshi wasn't on the ground anymore - he was hoisted in the air and slammed roughly against the side of Kame House, stars flashing in his eyes as his head collided with the wall. When his vision adjusted again, Raditz was right up in his face, the stink of dirt, sweat, and spices outweighed by the threatening pressure of his ki. Teeth bared like an animal about to bite, Raditz said, "Kakarot  _is not_ dead, you worthless raisin."

"Right," Roshi said. "Uh, noted."

"Are you guys alright?" hollered Yamcha from around the corner.

Raditz glanced in the direction of Yamcha's voice, and his grip on Roshi loosened so that the old man fell back to the ground. Quickly but discreetly, Roshi put some distance between himself and the stranger. He hadn't even seen Raditz move - how could anyone be so fast as to catch him off guard? It was almost supernatural, alien even-

Roshi paused for a moment, letting the thought develop into an epiphany, but before said epiphany was complete, Raditz was talking again.

"I will resort directly to violence if you do not help me in the next five minutes," Raditz said in a low voice.

Roshi raised his eyebrows above his sunglasses. He believed it. "Sure, violent stranger. I'll go right ahead and help you find this friend of yours with no clue why you wish to do so, and what you'll do to him when you find him. I don't mind having that on my conscience at all," Roshi drawled.

Raditz seethed at Roshi, clawing at the air so that he didn't claw at Roshi's face. "I don't wish him any ill - I just want to find him. Why are you so stubborn?" Raditz said.

"You just want to find him, hm? See, is giving information out really so hard?" Roshi said. "Now, why don't we go inside and have some lunch?" He turned his head in the direction they'd come from. "Yamcha, how about some grub?"

"Heck yeah!" came Yamcha's reply from around the corner.

Roshi glanced at Raditz from the corner of his eye, hoping to see the stranger furious at how the interaction had been derailed, but to his surprise he looked much like a kid in a candy shop. "That's the first sensible thing you've said since I got here," was all Raditz said, before stalking off after Yamcha and whatever lunch was going to be. Roshi watched him go, scratching the back of his head.

That Raditz really was familiar. He just couldn't place it...


	6. Lesson One, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah everybody remember how this is a vegebul fic? let's geddit

Nappa thought all he had to do that day was loom over some Earthlings and Vegeta's shoulder so that the prince looked more intimidating than his own stature normally allowed.

However, he was woken over an hour before his usual alarm by a buzzing in his scouter. Nappa rolled over in the silky sheets the Earthlings had provided, already alert despite being roused so unexpectedly. He picked the scouter off of his bedside table, clicking the button on the side while he fixed it over his ear.

"Vegeta," he said, glancing at the identification number in the corner of the glass. "What is it?"

Vegeta sounded entirely too at-ease when he answered, which told Nappa that the little prince was positively livid. "I need you to report to my study immediately. You're in charge of Earth for the morning," Vegeta said.

 _Really?_ "What's going on?" Nappa asked, sliding out of bed and pulling on the robe the Earthlings had tailored for him. His name was even embroidered over the bust, albeit in their native alphabet.

"One of Zarbon's games. Just quit dragging your feet and get over here," snapped Vegeta. The communication ended with a beep that almost made Nappa cringe.

 _Always in such a hurry,_ thought Nappa, openly rolling his eyes. He changed into his armor and wrapped his tail snugly around his waist, before deciding to risk a few more moments freshening up. When on real missions, he never was allotted ample time for grooming - it either wouldn't sit well with Frieza's goons, or Vegeta would pitch a fit himself - but nothing pressing was happening on Earth, so by golly he was going to wash his face.

The Earthlings had left a bottle of strong-smelling vapor on the washroom counter, which he was tempted to mist over himself, but Nappa knew Vegeta would never let him hear the end of it.  _I wonder if I could trick Raditz into wearing it,_ mused Nappa, before finally setting off for Vegeta's study.  _Oh, I should tell Raditz he's on goon duty today..._

Nappa clicked the button on his scouter while he walked, frowning as Raditz refused to respond to his attempts at communication.  _He's still asleep,_ thought Nappa with a sigh.  _It figures the halfwit would sleep right through any responsibilities he might have..._

(Nappa wasn't entirely wrong. Raditz was currently asleep, but the main reason he wasn't responding was because he left his proper scouter in King Furry's castle before disappearing to look for his brother. He only had his older model, the one he wasn't supposed to have, and no one knew he had.)

 _The Earthlings will be fine for a few hours,_ Nappa decided. He oughtn't waste time on Raditz - Vegeta would have enough to say to him as it was.

Vegeta was absently - though angrily - spinning a globe when Nappa arrived. "About time," he said without looking up. Vegeta raised one gloved hand, pointing at his desk, where papers and folders and a can of tamales with a bite out of it were stacked. "The pile on the left is pertinent matters, the pile on the right is negligible issues, and in the middle is crap I haven't got to yet. Use your best judgement."

Nappa picked up the can of tamales, raising his brows where the metal was pinched and torn away by teeth. "And this?"

"Leave it. I'm saving it for later," Vegeta said.

"Understood. Anything else, Vegeta?"

"You need to rename Kitty Kingdom."

"An honor."

"Indeed," Vegeta agreed testily. He rose up out of his chair and set the globe down on the desk, before grudgingly going towards the door. "Best of luck to you, Nappa."

Nappa nodded. "And to you, Prince Vegeta. Have fun playing Zarbon's little game."

Vegeta growled audibly, and Nappa had to stifle a grin. The door slammed with enough force to rattle the room. Nappa rolled his eyes before turning his attention to the desk, wasting time only to pitch the tamales over his shoulder before getting to work.

* * *

Bulma arrived at the courtyard in question fifteen minutes before the scheduled time with Oolong trailing behind her and whining all the while.

"I don't see why, out of the thousands of people your company employs, the only person you can think to help you with this  _stupid_ job is the pig you don't even pay," Oolong said.

Bulma would have kicked him, but binders and books were stacked five feet tall in his arms, and she didn't have time to pick them up. She didn't want to embarrass herself on her first day as the chief educator of Earthly norms to alien occupation. She'd workshop that title, anyway. Bulma had been up all night drafting lesson plans and lectures and exercises, gathering every book on etiquette she could find, and all of her hard work was _not_ about to be put to waste. Instead, she just said, "Capsule Corp. insurance doesn't cover death by emotional alien outburst. At least if you die, no one will be mad enough to sue."

"My, you're right on time, aren't you?" remarked Zarbon, strolling up to the duo with a wide grin. He wore sunglasses to shield his eyes from the morning sunrise, which bathed the whole courtyard in warm light that made the dew twinkle. Bulma couldn't help but squint at the mimosa he had, which he was drinking through a purple silly straw.

 _He looks like my mom._ "Of course. It just wouldn't do to be late on day one," Bulma said. "What's shakin', by the way? Here to witness my amazing teaching capabilities?"

Zarbon was smiling like a kid in a candy shop. "I just want to make sure our little Vegeta knows to behave. Speaking of, where on Earth-" Zarbon had to bite back a chortle at his use of the expression, "-is he? I thought he would know better than to be late."

Bulma checked her watch. "I mean, he's not  _technically_ late," said Bulma. "I'll be sure to include a quick lesson on promptness, though. On Earth it's good to be a few minutes early."

Even through the sunglasses, it was plain that Zarbon was delighted. Bulma gave herself a pat on the back - she was doing so well already, as could only be expected of her - but was distracted by Oolong tugging on her skirt. "What?" she asked from the corner of her mouth.

"This is the alien guy you were talkin' about?" asked Oolong. "I don't like his vibe, Bulma. I say we bail on this stupid job while we can, find Goku and the others, and blast these nimrods right off the face of the planet."

"I say we just kill you and turn you into bacon," Bulma hissed in response. "This is all gonna work out fine, trust me. You know, some problems can't just be punched away."

Oolong muttered something incomprehensible in response, but Bulma's attention was quickly recaptured as a new figure entered the courtyard. This, of course, was Vegeta - storming up to the agreed upon area with his fists clenched and his jaw set, as though marching into battle. Bulma's immediate thought was that he looked precisely like the troll doll she used to keep on her desk as a kid, albeit significantly less neon yellow - and admittedly, uglier.

* * *

Vegeta scowled as he came up to Zarbon and his 'babysitter'.

"What are you smirking at, human?" he demanded shortly, catching her hide a grin behind her hand.

"Ah, ah, ahh," said Zarbon, wiggling a finger in Vegeta's face. It was all he could do to not bite it off. "Play nice, little Prince. This is your tutor, Ms. Bulma Briefs - doctorate pending. And her assistant..."

"Oolong - eighth grade diploma debatable," supplied Bulma Briefs, doctorate pending. Not missing a beat, she went on, "Don't mind him, though, he's just here to carry things. Fetch snacks and stuff, typical peon things."

"You didn't say anything about fetching snacks..." mumbled the pig simpering behind her.

Bulma shot her attendant a warning glare, and his sass devolved into dark grumbling. Vegeta cocked an eyebrow at Zarbon, an incredulous look that said,  _this girl is supposed to 'tutor' me? She can hardly even keep a pig in line!_ But Zarbon just beamed at him with that insufferable smile. He knew exactly what he was playing at, Vegeta could tell. It was a game, a farce. 'How long can Vegeta be in the presence of a human before blowing up the planet and incurring Frieza's wrath?' Vegeta hated that game.

His train of thought was derailed as Bulma began speaking again. "I thought today we'd just gauge your knowledge and figure out where in the material to begin. It'll be like a pop quiz, kind of. No grades of course - in _l'école de la Bulma,_ there are no grades, just progress. Hey, Z, anything you wanna add?"

Vegeta caught the way Zarbon's eye twitched at being called 'Z'. He filed that away under 'fun things to try once he was strong enough to kill everyone'. "Oh, no, dear. I'll just be around in case sweet Vegeta here gets too rowdy. You are the teacher, after all, and I entrust this to you," he said. Zarbon leaned in and kissed Bulma on either side of her face, making her turn rosy. "I'll be on the balcony if you need anything." With that, Zarbon gently kicked off and flew up towards the balcony in question, so gracefully that he didn't spill a drop of his drink.

Bulma watched him go with her mouth open in awe. Vegeta scowled - how easily these Earthlings were impressed.

"He can  _fly?"_ asked Bulma.

"So what? I can fly too, he ain't special," Oolong - though Vegeta had forgotten his name by this point - said. "Not to mention Puar, Tien, Chiaotzu - I'm pretty sure Goku using the Nimbus counts outside of tournaments-"

As if her peon hadn't spoken, Bulma whirled on Vegeta. "So, like, can you fly too? How many aliens are here, anyway? Can all of you fly? What else can you do?" she asked, rapid-fire.

 _This!_  Vegeta thought, before leveling the courtyard with a blast of energy in his head. He quelled the urge. That was what Zarbon wanted, wasn't it? To lose his mind and make a child of himself. Well, Vegeta wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Do Earthlings ever learn not to pry, or is that something reserved only for civilized races?" Vegeta asked in his best drawl.

Bulma's face immediately soured at his tone, hardening and darkening and overall looking suddenly much less a bubbling schoolgirl. "Oh, so you know about personal questions, but not to respect your teachers? You're at an interesting spot, for sure," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "Well, whatever. I can work with that. Follow me."

Bulma strutted by Vegeta with her nose in the air, and was ten paces away before he realized she'd just given him an _order._

He spun on his heels, all but frothing at the mouth. What gave her the right to boss him around, then turn her back on him like he wouldn't murder her then and there? Ki bubbled up from his core, making the muscles in his arms twitch as the need to rectify this blow to his pride consumed him.

" _Now, now, Vegeta,"_ Zarbon's voice chimed in from his scouter. " _Mind your manners - that's what this is all about, remember?"_

"Shut the fuck up," Vegeta mumbled into the device.

"I heard that! No cussing!" Bulma shouted, now several meters away.

With great difficulty, Vegeta swallowed the furious roar in his throat, and stalked after his new tutor - adviser - babysitter - whatever she was, and did his best to ignore Zarbon's palpable aura of smugness on the way. Vegeta would have given almost anything to trade this humiliation for the privilege of renaming Kitty Kingdom - a thought he never would have considered before that very moment.


	7. Bulma Gives Vegeta a Multiple Choice Quiz and Proceeds to Kinkshame Him, the Absolute Madwoman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when it's half past midnight and u can finally string words together THAT'S AMORE~

Launch had all but dropped off of the face of the Earth, so Roshi had reverted to his old mealtime habit of a spam sandwich and can of diet soda. Yamcha found leftover chicken in the back of the fridge and helped himself. Turtle, in spite of a notable lack of thumbs, managed to make himself some soup.

And Raditz? Raditz ate literally everything else.

 _I haven't seen anyone eat like that since Goku was around,_ Roshi thought, more horrified than anything else. If it was possible, Raditz ate even more than Goku, and certainly had fewer hangups about combining different foods together into questionable food amalgamations he could shove down his gullet faster.

"Jesus Christ," breathed Yamcha, gazing at the gluttonous display the way one cannot help but watch a trainwreck.

Raditz, however, was oblivious to the mounting horror of everyone else at the table. He ate, and ate, and ate, until there was nothing else in the fridge or cabinets to nosh on, and even after that was on his hands and knees, gutting the cupboards beneath the sink looking for scraps. He didn't stop until Yamcha physically restrained him from drinking from a container of antifreeze - "What do you mean I can't drink it? It smells like sweets!"

All in all, it was a spiritual experience in the worst way possible. Roshi cleared his throat as Yamcha and Raditz settled again at the table, taking one last moment to suppress what he had just witnessed before moving on. "So, Raditz, this Kakarot... what can you tell us about him?" Roshi asked.

"Yeah, you haven't said much, other than he's strong and you knew him a long time ago," said Yamcha. "Like, what's he look like?"

Raditz considered this for a moment. "Well, the last time I saw him," he started, "he was very small, and round, and had a lot of fat on him."

"Like a little person?" asked Yamcha.

"Yes, I suppose you could say he was a little person, but I suspect he wouldn't be anymore - it's been years," said Raditz.

"So he, what, got bigger?" asked Roshi, perplexed.

"As most species do," Raditz said, rolling his eyes.

Roshi rubbed his temples as he went through his mental rolodex of short, fat fighters who could grow taller. He only came up with six or seven, and none of them by the name 'Kakarot'. "There isn't anything else distinguishing about him?" asked Roshi. "Nothing in the face or affect - not even the way he fights?"

Raditz shrugged. "Well, honestly, I don't know how he fights," he said. "Never got to see him in action, myself. He does have very big hair, though. Does that help?"

None of the fighters Roshi was thinking of had hair, but while the old master was hung up on that, Yamcha's curiosity had been piqued. "What do you mean, you never saw him fight? How do you know he's a great fighter if you've never seen him fight?" he wondered.

This question was so ridiculous to Raditz that he threw his head back and laughed. Yamcha and Roshi shared a look, unsure of how to react or what they had missed.

"Whether or not Kakarot is a good fighter by Earthly measures is no question! He could level cities by accident as a mere child," Raditz said. "This isn't a matter of opinion, it's a biological fact. He is stronger than every single snot-nosed, sniveling fool who fancies himself a warrior on this forsaken rock. Of that, I'm sure." Raditz leaned across the table, his demeanor turning on a dime as he excitedly asked, "That's a good lead, actually - are there folktales of a monster ravaging cities and towns at night? Those could lead us to him."

"Are we looking for a boogeyman?" asked Roshi. "Yes, of course there are stories about monsters coming out at night - just like there are stories about, I dunno, Nigerian princes trying to unload their wealth on strangers over the email, and - gosh, what else? - uh, MILFs! That's nothing to go on, it's all hokey. Now, if you could describe what kind of 'monster' this Kakarot is, that might be something to go on. Even then, if he has a habit of hurting people and causing a ruckus, we need to know for sure that your intentions with him don't involve causing even more harm. You hear that, sonny?"

Raditz ground his teeth together audibly. "You people..."

"He's right, though," Yamcha piped up. "There are like, a  _million_ different stories about different creatures and monsters that will come out at night and hurt people. More details would really help a lot." Yamcha tilted his head at Raditz, cocking and eyebrow and smirking slightly. "Come on, man, you know I'm right."

Instead of cussing anyone out, Raditz opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water for a second, before clearing his throat and sitting back. "Yes, well, I can't argue with that, superstitious folk you are and all," he said.

Roshi and Yamcha leaned over the table, waiting for Raditz to elaborate.

"Well, Kakarot will turn into a giant ape during a full moon and go on a murderous rampage-"

* * *

Bulma slid a stack of paper thirty-five thick across the wrought-iron patio table with the finesse and care of someone handing over a wealthy aunt's last will and testament, rather than the repetitive multiple choice and short answer quiz it was.

"Remember to write your name at the top," she said, handing Vegeta a pencil along with it. For all her preparation, Bulma had forgotten to bring pencils, and had sent Oolong out to get some. When he returned, he had a dozen glittery pencils with pompoms stuck to the ends over the erasers. She knew for a fact he'd done that on purpose, but had refrained from publicly flaying him because - after all - she had been hired to teach manners and etiquette.

"You have other students?" sniffed Vegeta, accepting the gaudy pencil without question.

"For all you know," Bulma said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Vegeta openly scowled, and Bulma mentally docked one point from his quiz.

"How does this thing work?" he asked abruptly. He flipped through the quiz with a frown.

"You read the questions, then circle the answer you think is correct," Bulma said. "Have you not taken a test before? I can't imagine they'd be too different, even on other planets. Like, how many ways are there to check for comprehension, you know?"

Vegeta flipped to the end of the quiz. "Did you write this test, woman?" he asked.

Bulma docked another point. "That's  _Ms. Briefs_ to you, buster," she said. It was kinda funny watching the vein pulse in Vegeta's forehead every time she said, well, anything. "And yes, I was up all night getting that ready for today."

"A fat lot of good that did you. Look, you've forgotten to provide options under these last questions," Vegeta said. He showed Bulma a page dedicated to short answer questions. Before she could reply, he was flipping through it again, "And this page is just a bunch of sentences with missing words. Look - these are just statements. What does 'T' and 'F' mean? How is any of this supposed to make me better at dealing with Earthlings?"

"Short answer, fill in the blank, and true or false questions," Bulma supplied, trying to keep the irritated note out of her voice. "It's all intuitive if you actually sit down and do it. Now would you just start already?"

"Don't order me around, woman," Vegeta snapped, almost ripping the test in half.

" _Ms. Briefs._ I'd take Bulma at this point. You better watch your manners if you want to get a good score on this quiz, young grasshopper," Bulma said as she folded her arms defensively. "One more outburst and you're getting an F. Admittedly, that doesn't mean much at  _l'école de la Bulma,_ but it does mean we'll have to go a lot more in depth in a lot more material..."

"So?"

"So this little class of ours is gonna take  _way, way_ longer to get through," Bulma finished. She flashed a bright but insincere smile at Vegeta. "You don't want that, do you?"

Apparently he didn't, because Vegeta just scowled once more and got to work on the test. Bulma allowed herself to relax, letting the ambiance of the courtyard wash over her. Birds singing, Oolong's steady snoring, and the - admittedly furious - scratching of Vegeta's pencil against the paper. The warm sun on her face. She could almost fall asleep. Really, she could hardly believe she was worried about an alien invasion just a few days ago. Zarbon was perfectly nice - and kind of cute - and Vegeta, while certainly rude, did seem willing to at least tolerate her lessons. At least, he didn't want to face the consequences of  _not_ tolerating her lessons. All in all, things were going her way.

"This is stupid," muttered Vegeta.

Bulma's semi-meditative stupor vanished. "What?" she demanded, her tone more cutting than intended.

Vegeta didn't seem to notice. "None of these answers are right," he said.

Bulma sighed and stood up, walking around the patio table. Vegeta watched her form the corner of his eye, frowning. Bulma leaned over his shoulder to look at the paper.

 _36\. The time has come to select a spouse and a determination must be made between two candidates. The two in question are alike in most ways except that one is an_ _entrepreneur and has made a fortune from their business, and the other is the heir to a neighboring kingdom. Which candidate should be chosen, and why?_

_a. The entrepreneur, because more money is good._

_b. The heir, because part of a ruler's duty is to solidify ties to other kingdoms._

_c. The entrepreneur, because they are better at problem solving._

_d. The heir, because thick, lush hair is indicative of good health._

"There's a right answer in there," Bulma insisted. "Remember, it doesn't matter if you get all of them right, because I'm just using this to gauge-"

"This isn't a question of  _right_ or  _wrong,"_ Vegeta interrupted. He leaned sideways in his seat so that he could face Bulma and gesticulate angrily with the test at her. "There's no possibility of success with this question because all of the answers are blatantly false. It's a trick, an excuse to pat yourself on the back for being  _so much smarter_ than the occupying alien force. How many more little tricks have you littered throughout this test, hm?"

Bulma stood back, hands on her hips, trying to remain composed. She could not lose her cool on day one... "Alright, fine," she said slowly. "Let's make this a learning moment. _Prince Vegeta,_ what do you think the answer should be? Let's start there."

Vegeta visibly bristled at the use of his name and title, but bit his lip to stop himself from blowing something up. "A proper government is focused on strength - strength to rule and protect its people," he started.

"Sounds like answer 'b'," Bulma said.

"But it isn't," Vegeta snapped. "I know nothing of this neighboring kingdom. For all I know, they're just a leech, taking advantage of my power because they themselves have none. They think I can be duped by their own pathetic notions of duty and loyalty - to which I don't ascribe! No, we Saiyins have a far more sophisticated way of choosing our spouses, one which will actually find the candidate most worthy beyond a shadow of a doubt, and ensure the strength of our bloodline and our people."

He was getting red in the face. Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose. "Which is?" she asked.

"One-on-one combat," announced Vegeta. "As the ruler of my kingdom, I would face both candidates myself in battle to see whom - if either - is most worthy of a place at my side. We would fight for hours, days sometimes, without food or water. To the death, if need be! Only once one concedes defeat, or is beaten past the point of resistance, would I be able to know-"

Bulma lost her patience. "Look, buddy-" Vegeta all but hissed, "- I don't know how things are done in spaceworld, but on Earth we have pretty clear-cut rules: don't beat your fiancée to death. That's just not classy, you know? The right answer for the test is 'b', I promise. Gotta keep your neighbors happy so that if you get attacked, they'll throw their army at the perpetrator in your honor. And whatever."

Vegeta stood to his feet, indignant. "That's absurd! What kind of pathetic species relies entirely on outsiders to defend themselves? It's shameful," he said. "You have to fight them, lest you marry into a family of cowards and-"

"Okay, Vegeta?" Bulma cut in. "I don't care how hot you think it is to have princesses stomp your crotch. That's not a basis for a system of government."

Vegeta's face turned beat red and the words dried up in his mouth. He gaped at Bulma as though she'd sprouted a second, third, and fourth head. She was kind of surprised. One crude comment, and he was utterly immobilized. She supposed that made sense: if he was a prince, surely people held their tongue around him. This was probably the first time he'd actually been called out on his combat fetish.

"How  _dare_ you insinuate-"

"I'm not insinuating a thing, buster," said Bulma, wagging her finger at him in a somewhat Zarbon-esque manner. "You need to get your urges under control, or they're gonna keep coloring every decision you make. I'd suggest a therapist. Someone you can talk to about this fixation on violence you have."

Vegeta sputtered incoherently. "My - I don't - this is no fetish, woman!" He regained his edge, and his embarrassment morphed into righteous fury. "You're lucky I don't cut you down where you stand for your insolence. You think you can mock me, Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans? You think you can mock our traditions?"

Yamcha and Krillin had both talked Bulma's ear off about sensing ki - the buzzing up and down their spine, the heightened senses, how they could pick out individual people based on the flavor of it - but Bulma herself had never bothered learning that little trick. It required too much quiet meditation, and Bulma was always chasing a thought around her already cluttered head. But she didn't need to be disciplined in order to feel  _this -_ because  _this_ felt like a damn earthquake.

Vegeta seethed, clenching his fists, as power rippled up and down his limbs. It was enough to shake the ground beneath them and send Bulma stumbling. The rumbling got worse, and Bulma had the terrible sense that everything was about to end-

A teal blur smacked Vegeta in the back of the head and sent him sprawling. Instantly, the ground and Bulma's bones stopped shaking, and she looked up to see Zarbon standing over Vegeta's now-unconscious body. His mouth was twisted into a disapproving frown. It didn't seem like he's spilled any of his mimosa, though.

"Jesus," said Bulma. "What the hell was that?"

"A temper tantrum, dear, that's all," said Zarbon. He took a long swig of his drink. "He's prone to them, when he's around people he feels superior to. Just another habit we need to break him of while he's in charge of Earth and all. Are you alright, Ms. Bulma Briefs? You look white as a sheet."

Bulma didn't try to stand yet, but she did try to relax. "Oh, yeah. I'll be okay. Hardly the weirdest thing I've experienced," she said. Bulma glanced over at Vegeta, whose legs twitched angrily even when entirely unconscious. "Uh, and will he...?"

Zarbon waved his hand dismissively. "Who, Vegeta? He's been through worse. He'll tend to his wounded ego later, and be back for more tomorrow." Zarbon leaned over and took Bulma's hand, giving her his most charming smile as he asked, "And will you, dear? Be back tomorrow, that is."

The sun caught his eyes just right, emphasizing the beautiful amber color to an almost hypnotic extent. "Uh, yeah, sure," said Bulma, almost dazed. She came to her senses, and smirked. "What can I say? I love a challenge."

"Excellent," said Zarbon, hoisting Bulma to her feet. "Goodness knows Vegeta is nothing if not challenging. I'll send someone over to see you off."

"Don't bother, I'll just get my personal assistant to help me," Bulma said. She walked over to Oolong, who was miraculously still asleep in his spot against a tree, and landed a kick square to his side. "Up and at 'em, Oolong - we're going home!"

Oolong complained loudly and animatedly while Bulma shoved binders and papers and glittery pencils at him.

Zarbon's smile turned to a smirk, dark and private, while he watched the two of them. This was, in his humble opinion, the best idea he'd had in ages. One day - no, less than an hour - and Bulma Briefs had somehow managed to more effectively torment Vegeta than years of Zarbon and Dodoria's efforts and an entire planet of idiots combined. It was beautiful. And frankly, Zarbon couldn't wait for what Bulma would come up with tomorrow.


End file.
